


Bell and Lantern

by Shennyfac31



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beast Wirt, Cannibalism, Character Death, F/M, Lantern-Bearer Lorna, Possessed Turtlebell, The story gets darker, Turtlebell, Wicked Lorna
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-12 23:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14737919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shennyfac31/pseuds/Shennyfac31
Summary: What if Greg and Wirt didn't have the bell with them in Chapter 7? What if they ran away with Lorna?Eventually Beast Wirt x Wicked Lorna in some way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The possessed pair!  
> I think it'd be fun to write them. Planned to ship them romantically in the end, though I'm still figuring out how to get there. XD

“It’s done!”  
“Let’s go!”

Wirt turned around to look for Greg, who had fallen asleep while he and Lorna were busy finishing the chores Auntie Whispers assigned. He was sitting by the baskets in which they had hidden themselves along with the black turtles earlier that day, his frog cuddled tightly in his arms. The tea kettle on his head angled slightly from his position as Greg softly snored. He looked so peaceful. Wirt almost felt a pang of guilt to wake him.

“Come on, Greg. We have to leave now.” He took his hand, and held Lorna’s in the other while they ran out of the house as quietly as they can.

The rain had stopped. The regular half-moon peeked from the sky as they scurried down the path, just enough to illuminate the forest before them. In the dim light of moon, all the colors seemed to fade from the scene. Wirt thought Lorna’s face was pale when they first met, but now he’s surprised to find that it could be even paler, like some fluorescent light glowing in the dark. In fact, he could almost swear that her face _glowed_ in the moonlight. It’s a ghostly, bluish white glow that not only shone from her face, but went all over her skin.

Wirt also noticed that her hand had gone colder in the night air. Icy cold. Like the hand of a dying man. The warmth seeped out from the already heatless body every remaining minute of his life. Or, perhaps in this case, her life.

Could moonlight and cold air make people appear like dying?

“Lorna, are you feeling alright?” He had to make sure. Those thoughts terrified him.

“Aye.” She answered, in a weak and strained voice, followed by a series of coughs.

“Maybe we should rest for a while?” Wirt turned to face her, wariness dripping from his voice. Lorna only nodded. She felt too weak… too… overwhelmed to speak now. She was struggling to keep the Spirit at bay. The Spirit, the presence she refused to acknowledge and was too afraid to let loose, was stirring in her blood.

_Set me free._ It whispered. _Isn’t this what you wanted in the first place? You wanted to gobble them up, right? Didn’t you – didn’t we run away for this? For FREEDOM?_

_Nay._ More coughs. _Nay. This is not what I wanted._ She ran away because she wanted an end, because she liked Wirt and Greg, and because she believed that this constraint of love is more effective against her wickedness and less suffocating than the endless chores Auntie had put her through. She ran away because she thought that perhaps this time, it could be different.

Except that’s what she told herself every time.

“Oh yeah! Dr. Cucumber found just the place to rest!” Greg pointed to a rock his frog was jumping towards.

After they all settled down around the rock, Wirt blushed and let go of Lorna’s hand. He wasn’t even aware that they were holding hands the whole time! How embarrassing! He had never held hands with a girl before. Not even Sara. No, especially not Sara. Why did he notice her low body temperature but not the fact that he was touching her? How was he supposed to talk to her right now? He felt himself buried in his own awkwardness.

“S-sorry. I didn’t mean to… I mean… It’s not intentional…” He stuttered. The color deepened in his face as Lorna stared at him with confusion written upon hers. At least she didn’t seem upset. This calmed him down a bit, and he recalled that there were graver problems at hand. He managed to regain his composure, clearing his throat before he started to talk again. “Um… so… do you have any place in mind? Where you want to go after we escaped?”

“Oh… I… haven’t thought about that before.”

“Well… my brother and I are looking for our way home. Would you like to join us?”

“I’d love to.” She smiled, timidly, gently. It looked warm despite the sickly glow on her face.

Wirt hadn’t realized how desperate he was for her to join them until now. He had felt empty ever since Beatrice betrayed them. It’s like a hole had opened up in his chest, widening and deepening as their situation gradually settled in. They were betrayed by a friend. They had no one to guide them now. There was no hope for them to get home. There never had been. They were lost for good.

Then among all these, Lorna showed up, and filled in the void of his heart. She had stopped him from falling into the all-consuming black hole he created, and gave him a new hope of traveling with a guide, with a friend, with someone who had plans. Perhaps he can be lucky for this one time in his life. She had agreed to join them, and they had escaped the house together, right? Perhaps they could also escape the Unknown if they work together. Yes, this could finally be a better turn of his story. Lorna gave him hope. She gave him a goal. She gave him _directions._

She is the compass inside his heart.

_But how are you supposed to know that?_ A voice whispered in the back of his head. _How do you know this won’t end up like last time? How can you be sure that she’s not using you? Should you really trust her? Even if you do, what makes you think that she can bring you home? She is as helpless as you are out here. You are both lost, with nowhere to go._

_At least we are not alone. We can help each other._ Wirt thought. _Lorna won’t betray me. She didn’t approach me on purpose._

_Is that so?_ The voice murmured. _Or are you just trying to convince yourself?_

“Um… Wirt?” Greg’s words snapped him out of his thoughts.

“What?”  
“I think Lorna is sick.”

They turned to find Lorna curled up against the rock, her head bowing low, hiding her face from them. She was trembling all over. Her coughs are becoming violent and a rasp had entered her voice. The glow around her had intensified, reminding Wirt of her eyes when they glowed as Auntie Whispers controlled her with the bell. Was the bell around here? Had the witch followed them when they escaped? Had she placed some kind of tracing spells on them? Most importantly, what should he do now?

“Lorna? Can you hear me?” He tried to call out to her. The coughs seemed to stop for a while, and everything went silent. Is that a good sign?

Slowly, Lorna raised her head. What happened in the next few minutes, Wirt can only describe as nightmare.

Her face was distorted. Her mouth had grown into a wide crack, filled with gleaming, sharp teeth. Her eyes were sunk into the sockets, with a menacing blue glint in them. Where her nose should be, a thin hole had replaced it, like something one would find on a skull. In fact, her whole appearance looked like a skeleton. She grinned wickedly at them, uncurled her body and floated in the air, like some weightless spirit. Wirt was petrified by the scene. He could only gap at her, wondering if this was still the Lorna he knew.

“Run, my turtles,” the Spirit opened her mouth, “before I devour you.”

Wirt didn’t need a second hint to run. He took off as fast as he could, like the times he ran from the dog, the frog cops, and the house of Adelaide. Greg followed him into the forest. The two of them stumbled across roots and bumped into branches as their feet carried them further into the woods, hitting on unseen paths rapidly, regardless of the direction they were heading. The spirit didn’t charge at them right away. She seemed to be restrained by some invisible forces. Wirt dared to hope that Lorna was still trying to save them, but he knew better than to trust any hope he had now.

He ran until he was out of breath, and couldn’t feel his limbs anymore. Dirt covered his feet while scratches and bruises covered his hands and face. His hair was a mess, tangled with leafs and twigs after he took off his pointed hat. His forehead glistened from sweat under the pale moonlight. The cold night air stung his lungs every time he tried to take a deep breath. His mind and logic urged him to run on, to run farther and faster, but every fiber in his body just screamed for him to stop, to rest, to lie down and sleep.

So he stopped, leaning against a tree after racing for what seemed like an eternity to him. He was panting. The cold surrounded him, lowering his body heat faster than the sprint had accumulated it. A shudder coursed through him as he gazed into the darkness before him. The forest looked so doomed, so hopeless, just like his fate.

The air was quiet, almost too quiet. It was unsettling. It’d never been this quiet since he found himself in the Unknown. There would always be birds chirping, owls hooting, frogs croaking… Even without all this, his brother would still be singing and laughing and rambling. Greg could never stand the still atmosphere. Wirt wondered why he was so unusually quiet now. And his frog? Why wasn’t it croaking? _How could the forest be so quiet?_

Panic grabbed at his heart as Wirt looked around for his little brother. The woods extended towards the edges of his sight, filled with shadows and heavy fog, but not a single soul was there to be seen. There was no sign of frog, no sign of kettle, and no sign of laughter. The forest seemed dead. Deserted, lifeless, endless. Even the wind had stopped howling, and the still air felt smothering, as was the fear inside him. Wirt tried to focus. He had to keep breathing. He checked again and again, but the result was still the same.

No sign of Gregory.

He must have lost him during the run. He should have known that he couldn’t catch up with his speed all the way. Wirt cursed himself for how careless he had been, how blind, how cowardly, and how irresponsible he was. Why didn’t he notice when Greg was left behind? He was supposed to look after him! Instead, he’d only run for his own life. He was such a failure. As always. This was all his fault. He can only hope that the Spirit didn’t get him. If she did, this would be the sorest regret of his life. No, who was he kidding? This had already been his sorest, bitterest regret.

His whole trip in the Unknown was nothing except regret.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wirt met someone in the woods.  
> The Spirit met her meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I decided that the story will get darker from here, so be warned! ;)

The Spirit fought for control over Lorna’s body. She wouldn’t let go. Her resistance was stronger than it used to be. Were those two really that important? What’s so special about them? They smelled just like her other victims, tasty but ordinary.

Thinking about those she had consumed made her hungry. It had been too long since the last time she’d had a proper meal. The hunger was unbearable. It’s compelling her, driving her like the bell did. It granted her forces through desperation, enhancing her power to get control. She’s unstoppable now. Lorna could no longer stand in her way. She was in possession of this body, and she must feed.

She floated high in the air. The scents of the brothers guided her through the woods. Their track was still fresh. They mustn’t have gone too far. The Spirit followed eagerly, grinning in anticipation. Let the chase begin.

She enjoyed the excitement through the hunt. The thrill of liberty. The promise of food. For too long she’d been confined, forced into the Sisyphean job. It felt wonderful to finally be free, to do as she pleased. There would be no more bells to compel her, no more chores awaiting her, and finally no more stubborn girls to deny her desires and restrict her from her prey.

Her prey. She was closing in on them. She can feel it. Their smell had gotten stronger. It’s only a matter of time before she can feast on their tender flesh, sweet and delectable.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Lorna can feel it as well.

Her struggle had doubled, seeking to cage her again. For a fleeting moment the Spirit thought that her grip might fall loose, but no, she would not give up to imprisonment again so easily. Auntie Whispers might have enslaved her with the bell, but her main restriction actually came from her host. Whenever she found a chance to turn on the old witch, Lorna stopped her. She wouldn’t hurt her Auntie, no matter how much she longed to be free. The Spirit loathed them. She would have gladly ended Whispers given the opportunity, even if her flesh would be soiled and inedible from all those turtles she consumed. Oh, she’s certain that the old hag did it on purpose. Just to ruin her appetite with the smell she reeked of.

Clever. Much like the other witch, her diabolic sister.

The Spirit thought for a while to visit the crone in the pasture, to pay her back for what she had done and what she had tried to do. But nay, the foods were more important. She would have all the time for revenge after she sated her hunger.

Now, where had her turtles gone?

*** *** ***  
Wirt had lost his brother.

He roamed aimlessly in the woods, calling out to Greg. After the initial rush, in which he frantically ran around and searched everywhere he could lay his eyes on, there were no vigor left for him to continue. Besides, those mindless searches had made him more lost. He couldn’t even find the rock where they had rested earlier. Exhausted and disorientated, he’d settled to moving around the woods in a slower pace, crying out occasionally for his missing brother. Though if he was being honest to himself, those shouts were meant more to break the unnerving silence than to actually get responses.

The fog had gotten deeper, the weather colder. Wirt wrapped his cape tightly around his trembling shoulders, straining for every step he took. He felt himself being torn between the desire to rest and the urgency to find Greg. The more time he delayed, the graver danger he would put him in. However, he had never been so cold and battered before in his life, so lonely, so despaired. He just wanted to give up.

The moon was hidden behind the clouds, making the forest darker with obscure shadows. The path, if there had been one to begin with, had become more and more uneven. A root extended from the darkness tripped him up, and he stumbled into the embrace of a tree. Just before he fell down, Wirt thought for a moment that he saw a pair of luminous white eyes staring at him. What could it be? Illusion? He was too tired to find out. A low hum was echoing in the back of his ears, almost like a lullaby, gently luring him into sleep. He felt his eyelids become heavy as lead, and his mind wander down the path to dreamland as he lay there, secured by tree roots.

He could just sleep here forever…

_No, I can’t! What am I thinking? What about Greg?_

_He is probably gone._ The voice in his head whispered. _Even if he’s not, how are you going to find him? You can’t even stand. You need to rest._

 _No!_ Wirt protested. _I need to find Greg. I need to find him before… before it’s too late._

_You’re in no shape to look for your brother. You are too tired to see or hear clearly. You might miss him. You could’ve already missed him. If you walk again in the forest under such conditions, you might get yourself killed._

_But I have to try! I can’t just sit around and do nothing!_

_Actually, you can. And you should. You’re no good to your brother dead._

_I’m no good to him alive, either._

Wirt forced his eyes open.  
He almost closed them again in unimaginable shock.

There, face to face before him, was a pair of colored-ring eyes which reminded him of the mad dog at the Woodsman’s mill, ready to lurch on him. Beside those eyes, darkness. Total darkness. Like he hadn’t opened his eyes at all. Except that when he closed his eyes, he could still imagine light, but now, he saw the darkness so clearly, so undeniably that he realized there was nothing else but darkness. And this scared him to death.

“What’s going on?” He screamed. “Who are you?”

“I’m just trying to help you, Wirt.” It’s the voice in his head. “You need to rest. Take care of yourself. It’s the best thing you can do for your brother right now.”

Those eyes seemed to dim a little, and their colors faded. A song, deep and slow, began to resonate again in the background, calming his nerves and dragging him back to sleep.

Wirt fought to keep awake.

“What are you doing?”

“As I said, I’m helping you.” The voice was still as ever. Alluring. Convincing. Almost innocent. It was so wrong. Wirt felt a shiver down his spine.

“No. Stop. I have to find Greg.” He shook his head, just like he did when he was preparing for a test but kept dozing off. “I can’t sleep.”

“You have to sleep.” The voice was commanding, but it also sounded caring, like Wirt’s well-being really concerned him. “Leave Gregory to me.”

“No. Nononononono…” Wirt tried to sit up, but his body wouldn’t move. There were roots and branches all over him, tying him down, leaving no room for escape. Wirt felt around in a frenzy. The tree encompassing him was covered in an oily substance. Or rather, the oil was oozing from the tree. It smelt like the Woodsman. Stale. Rusted. Beyond hope and rescue. This must be the Edelwood Woodsman told him about. The tree he grinded up to keep the lantern lit. _The lantern. The Woodsman. The tree of oil…_

It suddenly clicked.

“You are the Beast.” It wasn’t the Woodsman. He wasn’t turning people into trees. He tried to warn them but they wouldn’t listen. “I won’t believe your lies.”

Wirt pried through the branches around him. He was not going to let himself grow into a tree. Never. Greg’s still out there. Greg still needed him. He had to break free. What did the Tavern Keeper say about the Beast?

_For once your will begins to spoil, he’ll turn you to a tree of oil…_

Right, so he just had to hold on to his will. He can do that. His will was all he’d been left with now. Wirt snapped the roots covering his legs, shoving them aside. He was almost free now. He must keep working. He must focus. _Think about Greg._ He told himself. _Think about your brother. He will be safe. You will save him. That’s what you should do. Think positively. (How?) Don’t give up. (I want to give up.) You can’t give up. You will break this cage of trees. You will find your brother. You will bring him home. You will you will you will…_

“You will run into the Spirit first.”

Those words froze him in his action, but he recovered soon enough. He can’t dwell on those thoughts right now. He wouldn’t let the Beast get to him. The last bit of the Edelwood curling around his ankle had loosened, nearly withered. Wirt broke free and let out a yelp of triumph. He did it! He won! He can go find Greg now. Wirt raised his head to find that the darkness had receded, leaving him with a clearer view of the forest. However, the Beast was still there, staring down at him.

“So what do you plan to do now?” The Beast asked. “Are you going to feed yourself to the Spirit?”

“No.” Wirt turned from the antlered silhouette, but the Beast circled around him. “I’ll find Greg before the Spirit does.”

“Admirable.” The Beast chuckled. “But uncharacteristically unrealistic for you.”

Wirt didn’t respond. He simply took another path into the forest. Tree roots suddenly lashed out at his feet. He tried to dodge them, but they followed his footsteps precisely to catch him in the air. He reached down to free his feet, but he had overestimated the strength left in his body. The roots wouldn’t budge. More of them were stretching out from the dark to bind him, to fasten around and around him until he was wrapped tightly in a bundle of them, not unlike the situation in the house of Adelaide. Wirt wondered if he could use those scissors now.

“Listen, Wirt.” The Beast murmured with the slightest hint of threat. “Listen to me. I know my forest better than anyone else. I know where the Spirit is. I know where _your brother_ is. But you have to let me help you.”

“Why?” Wirt squirmed in the roots. “I don’t trust you. You just want to turn me into a tree.”

“Not any longer.” The Beast snickered. “You are worthy for so much more.”

“What do you mean by that?”

The roots turned him around to face the Beast. His eyes were glowing those rings of colors now. Red, yellow and blue.

“I mean, there are other ways I can help you.” His voice was soft, low and sluggish, masking any intent for Wirt to tell. “I can help you, without turning you into a tree.”

“Why should I believe you?” Wirt pondered his offer. It didn’t make sense. Why would the Beast want to help him? What did he want from him, besides turning him into an Edelwood? Did the Tavern Keeper mention any of these? Or did the Woodsman? Did anyone he met ever told him anything that sounded similar to this?

The Beast chuckled at his distress.

“You don’t have a choice.”

No. Unfortunately. This was by far the best shot he’d got. He can’t stay here, sawing through the roots with a pair of thin scissors. Plus, the Beast would certainly bind him with new roots once he worn the old ones down. It would be a waste of time. Even if he could break free, he wouldn’t last five minutes in the woods given his current status. Besides, he had no idea where he should start looking for Greg. He would just trip again and never stand up this time.

Wirt felt himself dissolving into hopelessness again, so he steadied his will. Perhaps this was what the Beast’s trying to do: to lure him back to the eternal sleep. He was not going to fall for it. He would concentrate on Greg.

“So, if I accept your help, will you tell me where to find my brother?”

“Of course. And I will stop the Spirit from devouring you.”

That sounded too good to be true. Why would he be so generous? There must be something in it for him. What could that possibly be? What could he get from him in exchange? Wirt needed to know.

“What’s the catch, then?”

The Beast glared at him with those psychedelic eyes.

“Well, the catch is, _you have to let me in._ ”

*** *** ***  
The Spirit followed the scents of the two brothers. They led her further into the forest. There were no real paths here, but a spirit like her wouldn’t need one. It was a totally different story for the boys, though. They must have had a hard time running between the trees. Good. She could catch up to them faster in the air. The forest posed no obstacle to her. If she stuck to their track…

To her disbelief, the track had diverged.

It looked as if the brothers were no longer running with each other. Well then… which way should she pursue? Should she go after the older one or the younger one? By the faint smell of frog, she could guess that the left track would lead her to Greg, and by going straight, she would encounter Wirt. However, the question here was: which of them did she want to consume first?

The Spirit hesitated, lingering in the air to think over her choices. She would have to decide this quickly. The brothers were running further away from her as time went by. Just as she was about to make up her mind, a familiar smell interrupted her.

At first she feared that it was Auntie Whispers, with the bell, ready to drive her back again. But after a while she found that the smell was different. It was stronger, but not as unpleasant. Fresher and Rawer. More like the turtles and less like Auntie.

And beyond that smell, she sensed food.

This one was much older than the two boys, but it could also contain more muscles. She just knew this by instinct. This new smell would make a far more appealing meal than any one of the brothers. If those two had still been running together, she would have had to weigh her options. But now they’re separated, they would be no match to this new prey she found.

She delayed no more as she eagerly went after the new track of smell. It brought her to a middle aged man in a dark outfit. He was, indeed, well-built. Greying hair framed his long, wrinkled face under the tall hat he wore. A frown cast perpetually over his tired features. He was carrying an ax. That might pose a problem, but nothing to really worry about. The Spirit was confident in her way. Usual men like him could never harm her. After all, a prey is a prey.

He was startled to see her, just like her foods before. She should have swept down and claimed her prize right there and then. First sight is always a good opportunity, her preys would be too shocked to react. However, she didn’t quite rush to her meal this time. Instead, she held back and observed, despite her hunger. Perhaps it was because she no longer needed to finish him hastily before the bell called to her. Then again, maybe this had something to do with the man himself.

He felt familiar. Or was it the lantern in his hand? That glow certainly looked familiar, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It did smell like the turtles. Was that the reason? But she felt like there was more. It triggered something… long-forgotten in her. She couldn’t tell if it was good or bad, or both or neither. She just felt… nostalgic. Where did those feelings come from?

A pain to her side jolted her out of her reveries. The prey was swinging his ax at her.

“Be gone! Spirit!” He yelled. “Stay away from my daughter.”

She growled. _How dare he!_ She put her hand over the newly opened wound, and it vanished in a flash of blue light. Now, she should really stop fooling around, and take care of her prey.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Powers. Magic. Deals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had too much fun writing witchcraft. XD. I almost tried to make up some spells.  
> A lot of headcanons and explanations. Could't help. XP. Feel free to ask if something is unclear.  
> I might not get everything straight and I'd appreciate your help! ;)

Will power is a rare gift.

If someone lost hope in his forest, the Beast would claim their minds. He could look into their heads and read their thoughts. He would learn all their dreams, secrets and weaknesses, so he could push them deeper into the darkness with his words, under the pretense of their inner voices.

If they sank deep enough to become Edelwoods, the Beast would have their souls. They would remain in the darkness as their vessels were chopped down, grinded up and fed to his lantern. It’s only balanced, to have their bodies fueling the light and their souls fueling the dark.

Over the time, few could escape this process, especially after the Edelwoods had started to grow on them. One could only break out through extremely strong will at this stage. Virtually no one ever did it, no one until Wirt.

Wirt. Such an interesting case.

At first sight, he had no will at all, just a total pushover who did what he was told. However, deep down, he possessed such a rare gift of absolute will power, which would only surface during dire situations concerning those who he cared. His will was strong enough to anchor his soul, to keep it from slipping away into the Beast’s dark grasps, despite his already battered mind and pessimistic nature. The protection was perfect. Stubborn and Unyielding. Securing his existence under all kinds of turmoil. It was something the Beast lacked, something he longed for.

That’s when he decided that Wirt should not become an Edelwood. That such power should not go to waste.

If the Beast possessed his body, he could share his will.  
Then, little by little, he could take over him, and steal the power he so coveted. With the full power of his will, he would never fear for his lantern to be blown out again, and the fuels would be able to sustain the flames for so much longer.

Speaking of the lantern…

The Beast could feel that his time was running out. The Spirit had discovered his lantern bearer. The incompetent Woodsman. He was actually glad to get rid of him, but not so glad to expose his soul in danger. If he had to deal with the Spirit, either persuading her into handing over his lantern or preventing her from sharing his food source, he would need some leverage.

A plan was already forming in his head.

Just more reasons to get his hands on Wirt.

*** *** ***  
Auntie Whispers was disturbed from her sleep when someone knocked on the door.

“Lorna, go to the cellar!” She grabbed the bell from the nightstand. Travelers were scarce in this part of the woods. She avoided visitors at all costs. When by chance some lost strangers ended up on her doorstep, she tried her best to save them from becoming Lorna’s dinner.

She went downstairs. No sign of Lorna. Had she hidden in the cellar already? Whispers looked around. The fire had been doused, and most of the candles had burnt out. The remaining ones were burning to the end, casting a dim, mysterious glow over the empty room. The floor was perfectly clean, at least for what she could make out under such lighting. The girl had been working hard. She felt a slight sting of guilt and sadness in her heart for constantly driving her around. She thought she had gotten used to the feeling long ago, used to being the devil herself. Nonetheless, her heart still ached whenever she felt like she was too hard on the sweet girl.

Whispers lit a new candle, and went to answer the door. Sometimes the visitor would just barge in, assuming that no one was living here. She kept the façade of the house deserted to ward off others, but the trick did backfire in such circumstances. The intruders were quite easy to deal with, though. Her appearance alone would be enough to scare them off. Of course, it would be even better if the stranger was so polite to knock and wait outside, regardless of the house’s state. In that case, she could just kindly send them off to the nearest shelter, and warn them to stay away from here and the pasture.

There’s nothing to worry about if the visitor was just a normal stranger.

She, however, would be concerned if the visitor was someone she knew.

She had few acquaintances in the Unknown now. Some of them were friends, but most of them were enemies. Especially her. She hoped that whoever knocking outside was not the witch she feared, not for herself, but for her sweet Lorna.

Adelaide should not be able to travel in the night now, and Whispers doubted if she knew where to find them. But if she could, and was willing to seek them out, Whispers was ready to face her and protect the little girl from her.

She opened the door.

A boy was standing there, looking somewhat sheepishly at her. He wore a red, pointed hat and a navy blue cape, torn at the edges and covered in dirt. His complexion was pale and tired, with bruises and wounds scattered over his skin.

A stranger. She was relieved. Though the boy seemed to be in terrible conditions.

Unlike those who met her in the first time, the boy wasn’t startled by her deformity. That or he hid it very well. He did look kind of nervous in her presence, but she had not found the common alarm in his eyes like others. This piqued her interest, along with the fact that he had knocked on her door earlier, as if knowing that the house wasn’t abandoned. She promptly concluded that the boy was more than a tired and battered traveler lost in the forest, asking for food and shelter. No, he was visiting her for some reasons. Some unknown, alerting reasons.

“What do you want from me, boy?” She asked.

“Uh… Hello. My name is Wirt. See… I-I was traveling with my brother… His name is Greg… We were looking for our way home… and we came here… a-and I missed him. And… it’s sort of complicated but I already knew you. And I… I need your help.” His face turned red during the speech, and his breathing was quick and shallow. Though he spoke faster and faster, his voice was getting lower and smaller, almost inaudible in the end.

“Calm yourself, boy. I can hardly understand you.” She mulled over the information. His words didn’t make much sense. Was he asking her to help him find his brother?

“O-oh… yeah… and there is this girl, Lorna. She was a girl but then… she turned into some kind of spirit? I don’t know…”

This shocked her. “You’ve met my Lorna?”

She stared at him profoundly, in a new light. So he had seen Lorna, and she had transformed in front of him. Why was he still alive, then? When did this happen? Auntie Whispers felt like she would need to have a long talk with this Wirt.

“You shall come in.” She would let go of her no-visitor rule for now. “We shall talk this over. You can tell me the whole story while I make tea.” Or had Lorna do it? After all, the two had met already. But nay, she wouldn’t want to take risks.

“Uh… thanks.”

The boy moved forward to cross through the door. He stumbled. Whispers reached out for him. In her own astonishment, she nearly forgot that he was in a grievous state of health. How did he even make it to her house? He looked like he could collapse any moment. It’s a miracle that he was still standing on his own. She should tend to his injuries first. As she extended her hands to steady him and further examine those cuts, the candle she carried shone a flickering light on his face and body, and she got a better view of him. His expression seemed off for some reason. Too stiff. It was subtle, but she could tell. She also noticed the way he seemed to shy from the light.

Then she noticed his shadow. With _antlers._

“Stop.” She gasped, and let go of Wirt. “You shall not bring evil upon my house, Beast.” Her voice was monotone as ever, despite the conflicting emotions inside. The boy looked at her with widened eyes. “I know your tricks.”

In the faint, wavering light, his demeanor began to change. It was colder now, all the awkwardness and uneasiness faded as a smile creeped up his face. Shadows seeped into his skin, making it paler, yet not as pale as his eyes. They were now filled with a brilliant white gleam, holding no warmth at all, like moonlight reflected from the snow. His limbs lengthened and his fingers became sharp, crooked and spidery. Dark tree branches extended from his temples to match the form in his shadow.

“Well then, we should just talk out here.” He grinned. His teeth were pointed.

“Or not. With you I have nothing to do.” She turned to shut the door.

“What about the girl?” The Beast tilted his head. “Does she not concern you?”

She paused. What did he want with her Lorna? “Leave us alone.”

“I’m afraid I can’t.” His laugh was soft but chilling. “She has entered my forest.”

Auntie Whispers was bewildered. That was… impossible. She couldn’t leave until she completed her tasks. Was she not in the cellar now? Whispers rushed back in to check on her, ringing the bell and calling out to her all along. There was no response. Lorna was gone. She had left. How she finished her jobs in such a short time was beyond her. She should have given her more works to do. But alas, she had become wicked again, and she went into the forest. Whispers couldn’t tell if she was more worried of her or of those who would cross her path. It pained her to think that her sweet girl was now both dangerous and in danger. But what hurt the most was the fact that she might never see her again. She left. Her precious Lorna had left her Auntie.

She walked out again slowly. She had to find her, though it would be hard. She didn’t even know for how long the girl had been gone. The creature waiting out there for her might hold some information, but he was a tricky one to deal with. She must be careful if she was to implore his help. She remembered her sister well. Her mingling with dark magic and the consequences. She shall not follow in her footsteps.

“Tell me, what do you want?” She asked gravely.

“I want to help you.” He blinked. “If you let me have the bell, I can certainly bring her back to you.”

“Then you want the bell.” Her gaze darkened. “You will drive her into wickedness.”

“Isn’t she wicked already?” The Beast chuckled. “She ran from you. How am I supposed to bring her back without the bell? She won’t come willingly. And you don’t want me to hurt her, do you?”

“… no.”

“Then do we have a deal?”

“Wait here.” Auntie Whispers closed the door, blocking out his deep, melodic voice and those white, shining eyes. She produced the bell from the folds of her robe, and went to light up the fireplace with some dried herbs hidden in a crack on the wall.

She can’t let the Beast control her Lorna. He already had her sister. She’d be damned if she let his roots dig any further into her family. And Lorna was her sole family now, even though they were not related in blood. She shall protect her.

The fire turned cyan as she threw in a handful of powders, grinded from the bones of those who were devoured by Lorna. She stared into it and whispered her incantation in soft breath. That’s how she’d got her name, Whispers, for she cast her spells in low and quiet voices, distinct from the other witches. Her real name had long been forgotten, lost in the winds of the Unknown. She kept this secret for ages, for real names contained too much power over the subjects. She couldn’t risk it. No witch ever risked it. As her sister, Adelaide might still remember her name (and would probably like to curse her if she had the chance), but she remembered hers as well, so they were even. Other than her, Whispers had hidden her true name well from everyone.

She wondered if Adelaide did the same. She should, but she suspected that her sister had already given her real name away to the Beast. Or worse, her soul. Whispers could only imagine that there must be some kind of deals between them. The actual details eluded her. Did Adelaide make the offer? Or did the Beast seek out her sister first? Was it similar to her situation now?

The only thing she’s certain was that she could never make the same mistake.

The color of the fire changed back to normal as her incantation completed. She lit five candles with the flames before dousing it. The ashes cooled down fast at an unnatural speed. Soon they were cold enough to be mixed safely with the black oil from the turtles, and she used the mixture to draw a graph on the table: a star in circle. Each corner of the star had a burning candle placed upon it. After that, she carefully set the bell down at the very center of the graph.

The circle would drain the bell of its power. It was a spell she seldom performed. Most of the time she was charging the bell after the commands she gave wore it off. Lorna had seen her do that several times, but she doubted if the girl even knew that she could do the opposite. It was harder, indeed, compared to the charging. It also required more efforts and concentration, but she had to do this. It was for her Lorna.

She would give him the bell, devoid of most of its power.

Auntie Whispers took a breath, and started another incantation. As each word of the spell was voiced softly into the air, black smokes puffed out from the bell. Every smoke carried some power away. Though, she must be extremely cautious now. It was a complicated problem when it came to the exact amount of magic she should drain. The remaining power must be low enough so it would wear off before he could establish his grip on Lorna, but it must also be high enough for him to not suspect and to fulfill his end of the bargain.

She would need to find a balance.

Whispers blew out the candles and retrieved the bell after the ritual. It was searing from the spell, but she could handle it.

The Beast was still waiting for her when she opened the door. His face was of mild curiosity. She showed him the bell.

“What took you so long?” He asked.

“I considered your terms.” She cast down her enormous, bulging eyes. “You may have the bell, but you shall return it to me along with my Lorna.”

“Of course.” He smiled and reached for the bell.

She stopped him. “You will have to give your promise.”

“Well then, you have my words.”

“It will take more than your empty words.”

“What do you have in mind?” He tilted his head.

“I shall take a token from you.” She gripped the bell tightly. “Something you cannot leave behind. It shall guarantee your return.”

The Beast thought in silence for a moment. Whispers watched him from the door. To be honest, she had no idea what she shall take from him. What would possibly be so important that could make him come back? She hoped at least it would be something special and have a strong connection to him. She might be able to activate some tracking spells through it, if all else failed.

“How about this?” He reached into his cape and produced a pair of scissors. It was golden and shaped like a bird, with the beak as its blade and every feather intricately carved out. A fine object. She could tell that it was enchanted. But what surprised her most was that she had seen it _before._

“Adelaide…” She murmured. Her sister was in possession of a pair of similar scissors. She didn’t quite remember the details, but it was enough to disturb her. “Where did you get that?”

“Well, this is the token of my contract with your sister.” The Beast fabricated. “Here is my part only. If you have her part as well, you can sever our contract.”

“There is a way to save her, then? If I have both pairs?”

“Yes, if you wish so. She might not thank you, though.”

“What shall I do?”

“I think you can figure that out yourself.” He dangled the scissors in front of her. “Now, does this satisfy your demand of my ‘promise’?”

She pondered. This was actually better than what she expected. She’d never thought that he would offer her something of real significance, and she’d always thought that her sister was beyond hope. Then again, she still couldn’t save her if she had only one pair of the scissors. She would need Adelaide’s consent for the magic to work. Perhaps that’s the trap, but she knew this was the best she was ever going to get.

“It’s a deal, then.”


End file.
